Flicks of Dirt
by Teekoness
Summary: Rufus Shinra could never allow himself to be seen as a child. Even when he was one. Rufus, Reeve, Tseng ONE-SHOT


Author's Note: Would you believe me if I told you that this started out as a comedy?

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII and I am not making any money due this piece of fan fiction.

* * *

When Rufus was fourteen years old, he told Tseng to take him on a tour of the Shinra's head office. He considered wearing a suit. There was a white one in his closet that he was rather fond of. It made him feel _distinctive_.

Tseng for his most part despised it, and has expressed so in his own oblique way. No one wore white suits. It made him stand out from a distance. It didn't blend into the background the way blue or green or black does. A sniper could pick him out from a distance with ease. It was too _distinctive_.

Rufus for most part didn't care. Security wasn't his problem.

Nonetheless he didn't wear it. He was a realist after all. While tall for his age, he was still nowhere near adult height, and to wear the white suit for anything but formal occasions would make him seem all the younger. A child pretending to be a grownup per say.

Completely unacceptable.

Better be thought of as a young prodigy than a boy playing dress up in his father's clothes. Something he had _never_ even been tempted to do.

So he cultivated the prodigy notion (It was true enough.) and dressed in a simple but high quality navy turtleneck and well-fitted black slacks. The blue of the shirt complimented his eyes nicely, so when he talked to men and women of Shinra their gazes got drawn up to them. They paid more attention to what he said rather than what he looked like.

He was polite and complimentary but not slavishly so. He made a point of making unusual but informed questions so he was more likely to stick in the employees minds for years down the road. So when they belonged to him, he would already own their respect.

It was simpler that way.

As he toured the building with Tseng at his shoulder, he noted the looks of surprise and respect. It was working for the most part, though there are exceptions of course. Not that he was surprised. He was a realist.

The director of SOLDIER, Lazard Deusericus was fastidiously polite and Rufus got the strong impression that he was looking in a mirror. It was somewhat unsettling but to be expected. Still, he made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Deusericus.

The head of the science department wasn't much better. This at least he was expecting. Professor Hojo, as far as Rufus can tell, was narcissistic to the tenth degree. Hojo treated him the same way Hojo treated anyone like little more than a useful bug. A careful control of funding most likely would keep him under control. The professor in his own way was a relatively simple creature.

One of his last stops was the Urban Development division where he crisply knocked on the Head's door. He waited a moment then knocked again. There was a rustling of papers and the hasty sound of footsteps and the door swung open to reveal a man a foot too tall and twenty years too young to be Dean Niwaru, the head of the department.

The man was perhaps ten years older than Rufus and has long but neat dark brown hair and was wearing a rather fetching long blue overcoat which Rufus took a moment to admire. All of this would make him look quite sophisticated except for the garbage can stuffed full of papers that he was carrying.

"I'm afraid Mr. Niwaru isn't available at the moment," he said.

"If I may ask as to his whereabouts? I was hoping to speak to him today," Rufus asked. It takes him a moment to place the man. Yes, Reeve Tuesti. Shinra had funded his engineering degrees. Engineering degrees plural. Structural. Electrical. Mechanical. Computer. The list went on.

As if on cue, the man put down the garbage can and reached on his hand. "Reeve Tuesti, Assistant Head of Urban Development." Rufus put own hand. They shook.

"Rufus Shinra." If Tuesti was surprised, he gave no sign. Rather he seemed to be examining Rufus rather curiously, then simply nodded.

"Mr. Niwaru came down with a bad case of the stomach flu and asked me to cover for him."

"Oh." Rufus glanced down at the garbage can full of papers. The papers now seemed suspiciously _wet_. "I'm sorry to hear that." His right hand _itched_.

"It happens to use all, doesn't it? I'm sure you've had your share."

For the bulk of the day, Tseng had been standing quietly nearby Rufus without saying a word. If it were at all possible, Rufus would say that the Turk became even _more _quiet.

Nearly half a year ago, Rufus had had a bad cold complete with gushing nose and constant cough. To preserve a modicum of dignity, he had confined himself to his rooms for the bug's week and a half tenure. Unfortunately, this did not stop Tseng from his duties. Despite attempts to dissuade his bodyguard between coughs, every few hours Tseng had come in and swept the room while Rufus blearily glared at him from the bed.

Tseng, for his part, _never _seemed to get sick.

"Mr. Niwaru is likely to be out for the next couple days, but perhaps I could be of assistance instead?" Tuesti asked.

"It would a pleasure, Mr. Tuesti." The man was a genius and most likely would be running the department in a couple years time. He'd definitely be a useful one to have in pocket.

"Of course, but please call me Reeve. Would you prefer this office or would…?" Germs on chairs. Germs on tables. Vomiting.

Rufus quickly interjected: "Your office would be fine. I'd prefer you to be comfortable."

They quickly moved to Tues… No… They moved to Reeve's office. It was always a good idea to refer to one by his or her preferred title. It made them calmer and more prone to suggestion.

There was a large maple desk with a computer in the office. At least Rufus thought that is was a computer, both desk and computer were utterly buried in schematics with the occasional pencil breaking the monotony. The only thing that wasn't covered was a photo featuring a boy and a woman. Reeve and his mother perhaps?

He made a mental note as to check the status of Reeve's family.

Rufus settled into a chair near the door while Reeve rummaged through papers attempting to find something. Apparently he succeeded as he straightened and then, rather than sitting behind his desk, dragged his office chair over to Rufus's side of the room and joined him.

Tseng had already taken his position at the door when Reeve revealed his prize, a bottle of hand sanitizer. He squirted a bit out and proceeded to rub his hands with it.

Rufus's right hand _itched_.

"Would you like some?"

For a moment, Rufus hesitated. He'd hardly been in the Niwaru's room and a handshake was hardly a death sentence. It would seem excessive to worry about such a small thing. Before he could politely refuse, Reeve had already passed him the bottle and Rufus had little choice but to use it.

"Thank you." He rubbed it into his hands and looking up smiled at Reeve.

Reeve who was once again examining him. The man made no attempts to hide it or smooth the little wrinkles that were growing on his brow.

Despite himself, Rufus shifted in his chair.

Thankfully the rest of their conversation went much more smoothly. They discussed the new Mako reactors that Reeve designed, the problems and possible solutions of the constant sewer system blockages in the seventh plate district, and the possibility of a train system running through Midgar.

Finally, Reeve was forced to excuse himself and they grasped hands once more.

Before letting go, Reeve looked at Rufus one last time. Dark brown eyes met light blue ones. "Take care of yourself, Rufus."

* * *

Every birthday Rufus Shinra received a multitude of presents. Every Shinra employee out for promotion or a raise sought to curry favour with "Junior." Of course if they'd known that Shinra "Senior" didn't give a rat's ass about what his son thought, they might have spent their money elsewhere.

For the most part his fifteenth birthday was no different.

Tseng had given him a present. Last year it had been a semi-automatic with holster and a training regiment from Hell. This year it was white suit. He tried it on and examined himself in the mirror. He'd had a growth spurt recently and finally seemed a decent height to wear a suit.

"It has Kevlar lining," Tseng informed him. "It won't do much good if you get shot in the head." He paused. "We'll need to work on your sniper evasion tactics too."

Rufus was about to make some kind of sarcastic retort when one of his other presents _moved_. He automatically reached for his gun, but was stopped as Tseng grasped his arm. "It's not dangerous. Yet."

Cautiously, Rufus picked up the present. It was a large box with garish Moogle wrapping paper. There were holes punched into the paper. He ripped the paper off to find a pet carrier with a very large, very black kitten inside it. Hands moved of their own volition as Rufus opened the cage and the cat jumped into his arms.

Despite the fact it was bigger than most full grown felines, the kitten seemed perfectly content with him carrying it.

"Tseng. What's this?"

Calmly walking over, the Turk retrieved a card from the wrapping paper and passed it to Rufus. It took some juggling but eventually, he was able to hold the cat and read the card at the same time.

_Hey Rufus,_

_I hope he doesn't grow up too fast._

_Take care,_

_Reeve_

The kitten _mewed_ at Rufus who looked up at Tseng… At that moment, it occurred to him that he didn't have to crane his head back as much as he used to meet the Turk's gaze.

The cat's fur was soft against his cheek.

"Tseng…" His voice seemed strangled and helpless to his ears. Unsophisticated.

If Tseng noticed this, he gave no sign. "If I'm correct, it…" The Turk took a closer look at the cat. "… _He _is an Isis cat. They're most commonly bred in Wutai but I've heard of cases of them in Midgar as well. They get to be larger than most dogs and are unusually loyal for a feline. They're natural spellcasters. –I imagine it would make a decent bodyguard if properly trained."

Rufus nodded.

It occurred to him that when the kitten finally decided it was sick of him holding it, it would leave a trail of black hairs on his new suit. It was undignified and messy and he'd have to get his suit washed before he could wear it again.

He stood like that for a long time.


End file.
